


Stalemate

by annejumps



Series: Let's Play [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Charles Has Issues, Dom Charles, M/M, Painplay, Sub Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 20:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12283560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: Erik's taken home the green but promising baby dom he met at the club, but it seems there are still a few kinks to be worked out.





	Stalemate

**Author's Note:**

> Was almost immediately inspired to write a second part! Strike while the iron is hot, I say. This looks like it'll be a trilogy.

“Are you sure?” Charles asked again, sounding breathless.

“Charles, of course I’m sure,” Erik said, voice muffled by the pillow. Facedown and naked, hands tied behind his back, his hips were raised by another pillow. He was trying to keep as still as possible, to stop himself from rubbing his hard cock against it, but Charles’ hesitation was making that more and more difficult. Which wasn’t entirely a bad thing, although it would have been nicer if Charles had thought to order him to keep still.

Charles hadn’t done anything yet. Starting to get impatient, Erik shifted his hips, stifling a gasp. Behind him, Charles cleared his throat. “Erik. Keep still,” he said, trying to sound commanding and almost managing it.

“Make me,” Erik replied. 

Erik felt the paddle smack him, an even distribution across both cheeks. But there wasn’t nearly enough force behind it. Charles was new at this, however. 

“Harder,” Erik told him.

Another smack, just slightly harder, making his hips press into the pillow before he could still himself. Promising, but not enough.

“Again.”

Charles let out a little huff of frustration Erik knew he wasn’t meant to hear. A third tepid smack.

Erik turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Look, Charles. Do you not want to do this? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Charles looked crushed, but he nodded. “I do. I do want to do this.”

“It doesn’t seem like it. You don’t appear to be into it at all.”

“I want to be.” Charles lowered the paddle, looking down.

“Set that down, untie me, and come here,” Erik told him. 

With an air of gloom about him, Charles put the paddle down, unbound Erik’s wrists, and sat down on Erik’s bed. Wanting to keep his cock pressed between himself and the pillow for the time being, Erik moved his arms to fold them under his head, but otherwise kept the same position. 

“Now. What’s this all about?” he asked Charles, watching him.

Charles sighed. “I’m afraid… that I’m not what you need.”

“Why do you feel that might be the case?”

“I’m….” Charles swallowed. Eyes downcast, he didn’t meet Erik’s gaze. Erik nearly found himself distracted, Charles was so beautiful. “I’m ashamed.”

Ah. “Ashamed of what?”

“Wanting to hurt you,” Charles said, quiet, still not meeting Erik’s gaze.

“But I want you to. You understand that, right?”

“I do, but….”

“Do you? Do you really? Look into my mind if you need to, Charles. I like pain. I like the hurt, I like the rush when it goes away. You wouldn’t be doing anything I wouldn’t want.” The psychology of why, exactly, Erik liked pain was complicated and not something he was particularly interested in looking at too closely just now, but there was some science behind it all, at least. “Endorphins, Charles. I know you know about those. Just think of it as giving me an endorphin rush.” 

“I know you want it, and I want to be the person who does that for you, but—”

“But what, then, Charles?” Now Erik was honestly curious. “If you know I want it, and you want to do that for me—”

“It means I’m a bad person,” Charles blurted. 

“What does?” Erik was honestly baffled.

Charles took a shaky breath. Erik wished for once that he were the one with the mind-reading ability; this was a bit maddening. Charles struck him as a poshly educated man, yet he was stumbling over his words, barely able to express himself. Finally he said, still not looking at Erik, “My wanting to hurt you means I’m not a good person.” He sighed.

Erik laughed; he couldn’t help it. “We are none of us good people, Charles. There’s no such thing.”

Charles furrowed his brow, frowning, looking slightly offended. Erik almost felt bad; this had clearly been a big thing for Charles to admit. Well, at least this was a breakthrough. Now they were getting somewhere, getting that much closer to getting Erik feeling some pain tonight, if Erik had anything to say about it.

“Have you hurt anyone before like this at all, Charles?” Erik asked, remembering when they’d met mere hours ago, when Charles indicated he hadn’t so much as gotten anyone on their knees for him before.

Charles shook his head, meeting Erik’s eyes at last. He really was beautiful.

“I should have realized,” Erik said, half to himself. He added, “I’m sorry, I was too eager to have you paddle me. I knew you were new at that, but we should have discussed this more first.” He’d definitely sobered up since he’d made that initial decision.

Charles nodded his understanding. “I still would like to—”

Erik cut him off. “Not if it’s going to make you feel bad. I want you to enjoy it.”

“I wish I could,” Charles sighed.

“Is that all?” Erik asked. “Is it just that you’re ashamed, you think liking hurting me makes you a bad person?”

“Essentially, yes.” Charles laughed shortly. “I understand that you want it, but you did say…. You said you weren’t looking for a service top.”

“I’m not,” Erik agreed. He permitted himself to stretch a little. “I need someone who accepts who they are, who understands what wanting to hurt me means, if I want it too.”

Now Charles looked heartbroken. But he nodded.

“Let’s call things off for tonight,” Erik decided. “This is more emotionally fraught than I had intended, so no pressure.”

“Can I still stay here?” Charles asked immediately.

“Of course,” Erik replied, “but no scene.” His erection had already gone down for the most part, he realized, sitting up to find his pajama pants and put them on. “There’s some pants in that drawer,” he said, gesturing, “if you’d like to change.” Charles had already begun taking his shirt off, giving Erik at look at his pale, solid body, with its perfect amount of muscle. He was mouthwatering. Erik openly watched as he stripped off the rest of his angel costume, tossing it to the floor to land alongside his discarded wings and halo, looking preoccupied; realizing Erik was looking, he smiled, a little devilishly, and Erik found himself smiling back. 

Charles got into bed alongside him, and kissed him, but with Herculean effort Erik kept things at a goodnight kiss, even if it did have tongue; as much as he wanted to roll around naked in bed and anywhere else with Charles for hours and do everything he could possibly imagine, Charles’ head wasn’t in the right place for any of that now. They needed to sleep on it.

Just before he fell asleep, Erik sighed to himself. All he’d wanted when he’d decided to take Charles home from the club was some easy pleasure in pain, and now, confirming his suspicions when he’d sucked Charles off in the back room of said club, he’d managed to rope himself into coaching this baby dom. This _repressed_ baby dom.

All the same, an underlying voice was telling him the time he’d put in would be worth it.

He woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed, and realized Charles was most definitely spooning him, wrapped around him, actually. Clinging, really. And Charles was definitely hard. With a sigh, Erik strongly considered having Charles fuck him—ironically, had it been a true one-night stand, they’d have already fucked. But with things as they were, that might be too much right now. How had he gotten himself into this mess? 

Charles began to stir, pressing sleepy kisses to Erik’s neck, starting to shift his hips against Erik’s. Erik stifled a groan, closing his eyes tightly. Damn, but he really wanted to get off this morning. He just didn’t want to wait until Charles had worked through his issues. Who even knew how long that would take? Yet he didn’t want to find someone else, and he didn’t want to be alone.

“Can we start out slowly?” he found himself asking Charles. “Just with something simple. To get you used to the concept.”

“Don’t you want to be paddled?” Charles asked. Erik turned to look at him over his shoulder.

“I do,” he said, “but I think it’s too much pressure for you.” Charles looked glum again. “You mustn’t be angry with yourself,” Erik told him, wanting to chase away those stormclouds. “You’re new at this, that’s all. You can’t expect to be perfect immediately.”

Charles nodded. “All right.” 

Erik thought about every metal object in the room, pondering whether any of it could be of use. Were they further along, he’d suggest something with no metal whatsoever, but perhaps knowing Erik could stop things at any time would make Charles feel better. He settled on a small clothespin—just the thing. He floated it over to Charles, watching as it hung in the air above them, before Charles finally took it. Erik rolled over somewhat, more onto his back, and looked at him. “Put it on me.”

Seeming to take ages, Charles pinched it open, held it over Erik’s nearest nipple with an apparently deliberate pause—ah, he could tease after all, very encouraging—then placed it over the nipple and released it. Erik let out a gasp as it grabbed on, all his sensation now focused on that little point of pain. His cock throbbed with it.

“You see?” he said, a little breathless. “I enjoyed that. You enjoyed that. It’s simple, Charles. Liking to put a clothespin on my nipple doesn’t make you a bad person, does it?”

“Enjoying hitting you would,” Charles said.

“Charles. Think of the adrenaline rush. Think of having an outlet for your emotions.”

Biting his lip, Charles shook his head. 

Erik had a sudden realization. “Charles. Do you know someone who used to hit, to hurt, to punish?” He could have put that more smoothly, but Charles understood what he meant, he was sure.

Slowly, saying nothing, Charles nodded. Now Erik saw. He was nearly distracted from the feeling of the clothespin, still on his nipple.

“Wanting to hurt doesn’t make you like them, you know.” For fuck’s sake, now he was the baby dom’s therapist. “I don’t—I don’t have the answers for you, Charles, but it’s all right for you to feel the urge to dominate, it’s all right for you to channel those feelings. It might even be good for you.” Now that, he thought, was quite self-serving. But damn it all, he was hard with a clothespin on his nipple. And besides, he was right. “When you yank off this clothespin,” he told Charles, “that will hurt me. But immediately afterward, it will make me feel good. That’s entirely the point. Will you do that for me, Charles? Will you yank off this clothespin?”

The color was high in Charles’ cheeks. After a moment, he nodded. Erik waited, stifling the urge to tell him to do it, to go on.

Charles’ fingers hovered above the clothespin, teasingly whether he meant it to be so or not, and Erik closed his eyes, not wanting to know when it would happen. 

Charles yanked, and Erik gave a little shout, breathing hard, as the clothespin was pulled off. He shuddered. Charles pressed his face into his shoulder, breathing hard as well. Fuck, such a simple thing, too. The potential here….

“You see?” he got out, almost unbearably aroused; had Charles put his hand in his pants, he’d have come right then. He took another deep breath before adding, “It’s simple, Charles.” He thought of something else. “Bite me, Charles.”

“What?” Charles sounded confused, hurt, offended. 

“No, no,” Erik interjected hastily. “Actually bite me.” If Charles couldn’t bring himself to hit, at least not yet, perhaps he could do this. 

He felt Charles’ teeth sink delicately, hesitantly into the muscle between his neck and shoulder. 

“Harder, just a bit harder,” he said, and Charles bit just that much harder. Erik shuddered. That was good enough for him. “Very good,” he croaked, mouth dry. “You liked that, you liked feeling me respond.”

“Yes,” Charles agreed, in a whisper. 

Erik pictured seeing Charles’ teeth marks on his skin, and liked the thought. He had a hunch Charles would like seeing his marks on him, even if it might be hard for him to admit it…. “You like making me respond, you like my attention on you,” he guessed.

“Yes,” Charles repeated, voice sounding a little rougher now.

“Make it about me, if you need to,” Erik said. “For now.”

“You said you didn’t want a serv—”

“Don’t think of it that way, then,” Erik told him. “It’s a mental block for you. Don’t make the perfect the enemy of the good.” He could hardly believe he was saying these things. “Charles,” he said, because the hell with it all, “I don’t know about you, but I really need to get off this morning. Pain or no pain.” Turning in Charles’ arms, he started to pull down his pajama pants.

Quickly catching on, Charles pulled down his as well. His fingers being longer, and apparently being more in a hurry, Erik wrapped his hand around them both, wanking them off together, Charles immediately cupping the back of his head and bringing him close to kiss him. 

As he got closer to coming, Charles’ nails dug into his scalp, scraping it, and Erik practically purred. He felt Charles realize what he’d been mindlessly doing, felt him direct it into a deliberate action, and came, as if Charles had ordered him to. Charles came immediately after him, slick and sticky over his fingers. 

“You see?” Erik panted. “If you understand how much I like it, that ought to give you room to accept how much you like it.” Post-orgasm was no time to explain complicated dominant-submissive dynamics, he reflected.

“I suppose you’re right.” Charles was flushed and breathless.

“Of course I am.”

Charles laughed softly, but then looked more serious. “I’m sorry I’m such a bother. I don’t think you signed on for this when you walked into that club.”

“I didn’t,” Erik said, “but I did tell you I wanted to see where this went. And I meant that.” He reached behind himself for a washcloth on the nightstand, and wiped his hand and stomach off. “We want the same thing, Charles. We have time. Don’t worry.”

Surprising him, Charles kissed him. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you. I want to be this for you, I knew the moment I saw you I wanted it.”

Erik felt a little flutter in his chest. Damn it. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said, but it was hard to be cynical with those clear blue eyes staring into his.

**Author's Note:**

> Vague hints of past abuse.


End file.
